


Other People's Problems

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Secret Life of Us (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-10
Updated: 2001-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is minor unrequited Evan/Alex. I tried to see through Evan's eyes for this. It's a whole new fandom out there... all mine to play in! Basically it's how Evan thinks about Alex (previous to 'The Butterfly Effect' and all those episodes, mind you).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other People's Problems

**Author's Note:**

> All 'Secret Life of Us' characters belong to Southern Star Endemol and Channel Ten.

I am in a difficult position here. I am working on a redraft of my book, working on a scene about thinly veiled versions of Carmen and I, and Alex has just walked in and thrown herself down on my bed. Doesn't she know how distracted I get every time she does that?

'_God_, I'm stuffed.' She punctuates this with a yawn.

'Busy day?' _Clitter-clitter-clitter_ go the iMac keys.

'Oh, not really... just Eric's being a pain, and Jason came to see me, and Gabs and I did one too many laps of the pool when I got home... oh, and I excised someone's melanoma at work.'

'Sounds busy to me.' I look over my shoulder. She's dagging it up in trackie daks and has water still gleaming in her hair from the shower. 'What did Jason want?'

Alex sighs. 'To know what was going on between me and him. I said 'nothing' and he demanded to know why. Then he mumbled something about wanting to _marry_ me, when the divorce comes through.'

I can't help gasping, and hurry to close the computer down. 'What did you _do_?'

'Threw my milkshake in his face and told him to piss off.'

I flop onto the bed beside her, laughing, stealing a quick sniff of the perfume she isn't wearing. She smells great anyway -- purely Alex. 'And _did_ he piss off?'

'Well, he wasn't impressed. But he did go. He nearly ran into Eric on the way out, in fact, and I think that seeing him wearing milk was what prompted Eric to come over and ask me out.'

'Jesus, Alex! You're popular today!' The way the light is falling through the window and across her face picks out the tiny glints of red in her dark hair, and makes her eyes gleam with some special devilry. 'What did you say to _him_?'

'I said no, of course. I wish he'd stop pestering me.'

'Only the superficial ones pester,' I say. 'The truly devoted ones keep their passion to themselves, only to be revealed when the object of their affection shows any sign of returning it.' I give her what she probably thinks is a fake doe-eyed look, and she giggles. 'It's well-known, the old unrequited love.'

'Well, I wish Eric was like that... then I could just ignore him.' She rolls onto her back and puts a pillow over her face, muffling through it, 'I'm so hopeless in relationships anyway, so why do men still like me?'

'They can probably see that you're gorgeous on the inside and the outside and are prepared to dismiss the past if it means they'll have a hope of getting somewhere with you. They know that sometimes, you just have to put the past behind you.' I look at her, my eyes lovingly tracing the soft curves of her body, hidden in the baggy pale blue jumper and pants, imagining. My Alex, my friend, my secret love.

'Really?' Alex asks. 'Right. I didn't know.' For a moment I am afraid I have said the last out loud, but I realise she is referring to what I have actually said. She lifts the pillow from her face. 'How did you know that?'

I look at her, at her beautiful questioning face, and wonder if she realises what I'm really saying.

'Oh, been there, done that, Queen Alex,' I say. 'You're too wonderful for any man to resist.'

She throws the pillow at me. 'Thanks a lot, Evan!' She scoots over and hugs me. 'Keep writing, boy, your arse is on a contract... and your head will be too if you're not careful.'

I watch her walk out of the door, and wonder who made the rules that could make us so close, yet separated by the same thing: friendship.


End file.
